The New Martians
by Star Song2
Summary: A continuance on The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury


November 2026 This time, it was a real fishing trip. Dad had decided that they needed to learn to live on Mars, and so they began to plant the seeds brought along in the rocket and hunt the wildlife of Mars. The silver ring fish proved hard to catch, stealing the bait and opening up again to avoid the hook. But Robert had managed to pass his string through the ring and drag the fish to the bank, providing the first catch of the day- earning a smile from Mom, and a worried look from Dad. Suddenly, the ring fish floating in the purple waters began rippling faster and faster, swimming down the canal from them. Michael, seeing them go, began to cry fitfully. "Don't cry, Michael, they'll be back." Timmy watched the ring fish travel rapidly down the waterway, followed by increasingly large ripples. Hearing a motor, he turned to see a small boat trawling up towards the camp. He froze in sudden fear, formless thoughts streaming through his head. "Tim? Michael? What's going on?" Dad called out, running towards him. Seeing the approaching boat, his first impulse was to shelter the two boys. A tall figure stood up in the prow of the boat and shielded its face with a hand. "William? Is that you?" Dad called out tentatively, "Who's asking?" "It's me, old man- Bert Edwards!" The man leaned forward eagerly, overbalancing and almost falling out of the boat. "We just landed- about 5 miles down- we've been looking for you all morning- found the ruins of your rocket-" The boat grazed a rock, and Bert fell into the canal with a splash. A woman's scream was heard from the boat, along with the crying of children. He surfaced and began to stroke strongly to the side of the canal. Emerging dripping, he turned to Dad with wide open arms. "All that college swimming had to come in handy sometime!" "Bert- is it really you?" Dad whispered. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists, as if asking for a celestial answer. "It's really me." They embraced, and Bert turned to guide his boat to shore. "That's it, Millie, just steer in. not too fast. here we are!" He grabbed the mooring rope and tied it to a tree, then proceeded to help the occupants onto dry land. First out was a small girl of eight or nine, with a halo of golden curls catching the sun. She held in one arm a ragged doll, wearing a flowered dress much like her own. She was followed by an even younger girl with enormous brown eyes who immediately latched onto her sister, her thumb ensconced in her cherry mouth. Then came the oldest daughter, a studious-looking young lady of fourteen. "Here- I'll take her." Bert reached down into the boat and lifted from his wife's arms an invalid. She was wrapped in waterproof blankets, but continued to shiver in the hot Martian sun. Her locks were damp and plastered to her forehead. Millie stepped out from the boat aided by a hand from Dad, and stood nervously smoothing her skirt. From the grove of trees, Mom approached holding Robert by the hand. "Hello, there Alice! You remember our girls," Bert said, gesturing towards his daughters, "Cynthia, Lauren, and Jamie. And this," with a sad smile at the child in his arms, "is Courtney. Girls, say hello to your Aunt Alice and Uncle William." "Hello." "And these must be your sons, hmm? If I recall correctly, Tim, Michael, and Roger?" "I'm Robert," said the child with a pout. "Robert. Delighted to make your acquaintance." Bert seemed to run out of air, and sagged slightly. "Will, old man, is there any chance of provisions? We're plumb tuckered out." "Of course. Right this way, Millie, Bert." The adults turned towards the Thomas camp, with Dad leading the way. Mom began talking with Mrs. Edwards, while Michael, Robert, and two girls trailed behind them. Tim remained on the bank, staring at the boat bobbing gently in the canal. "Hi." He was awakened from his reverie by a piping childish voice at his side. Turning his head, he saw a cherub beaming up at him. "I'm Cynthia. Your daddy is my daddy's best friend." "Hello, Cynthia. I'm Timmy." The two shook hands solemnly before starting after their families, the young girl skipping and chattering while the older boy smiled indulgently.  
  
January 2027 They buried Courtney on the bank where the Edwards had first landed. Millie sobbed quietly during the short service read by William, while Bert stared forlornly down at the ground, a daughter in each arm. Cynthia refused to approach the small grave dug in the sandy ground, instead sitting away from the mourning group. After the crude wooden casket was covered with dirt, Timmy walked over to the young girl and laid a hand on her shoulder. "She's watching you from heaven now.  
  
July 2031 Timothy had taken the old motorboat on another excursion to the hills. With a final sputter and cough, the engine died halfway to his destination. Getting out, he was wondering how to return across the hot desert when he noticed faint lights in the distance. Tim grabbed a fallen branch and began hiking towards the city, stopping now and then to drink from his canteen. It was an Earthman city in relatively good condition; the stores still standing and small sidewalk cafés still brightly painted. And outside one of these restaurants sat an old man, smoking a cigar and reading a menu. "Give me a steak, not too rare, but not too cooked, with a baked potato and iced tea." Slowly, painfully, the old man stood and stumped into the café. He emerged minutes later, bearing a tray with a loaf of bread, peanut butter, and cherries on it. Placing the tray on the table, he sat down again and spread a napkin on his lap "Thank you ma'am, just what I needed." Tim approached tentatively. "Mister?" he called. The man leaped up with surprising speed and looked towards the voice fearfully. "Genevieve? Genevieve?" "No sir, I'm Timothy." A cracked laugh. "Timothy, what a nice name. Timothy, Timothy. I'm Walter" "Yes, sir. Sir, I'm stranded here. I came by boat and it broke down, and I can't get home again-" Walter slumped in his seat, dead. Timothy recoiled, unsure of what to do. He looked around uncertainly, and saw the clean white cloth on the table. It was just long enough to cover the old man in the chair. As he draped the sheet carefully across the corpse, a key fell out of its pocket. It was inscribed with "VW", and Timothy looked around for the corresponding car. He glimpsed a vague shape blending into the background, which, when focused upon, became an extremely dusty yellow Beetle. The boy got in the stranger's car, and with a last look at Walter, drove back towards his home.  
  
November 2089 "There you are, Tim." There was no answer from the silent figure on the canal bank. "Do you remember what today is?" Timothy stared pensively at the canal. Without turning, he said, "The anniversary of your landing here." A pause. "To think: I've spent more than half of my life on Mars." Cynthia Edwards sat down beside him. She brought with her a scent, reminiscent of daises, those Earth flowers that he vaguely remembered from past days. They sat in silence for a while before she spoke again. "Penny for your thoughts." He sighed. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" He picked up a fallen leaf and began to shred it. "Do you remember your first view of Mars?" Cynthia smiled. How typical of Timothy, to answer a request with questions of his own. "It looked exactly like this." "For a while maybe, all bare and silent. But Mars isn't the same today as it was thirteen years ago, Cynthia. Our families, just twelve people, have managed to change it." He gestured towards two thin trails of smoke rising in the distance. "How long will it take for that little town to become another Earthly civilization." Cynthia shifted uncomfortable. Ever since she had first met him as a little girl of eight, she had known that Timmy was different. He didn't like to play games or sports, instead spending his time studying and writing. Although he came to her tea parties and would whittle her small dolls and playthings, Timmy never paid much attention to her or her sisters. He'd pat them on their blonde heads with a vacant smile, and wander off to draw some distant Martian landscape. Dunes, sandy deserts, and rock covered mountains appeared in his sketchbook- but never the ancient Martian towns, or the more recently fallen Earthling ones. Timothy continued, "There is a way, however, to keep Mars relatively pristine." "And what would that be?" "Education. To teach the preservation and respect of nature, and enforce it. And our students would be children and grandchildren and great- grandchildren." He turned his deep blue eyes upon her face. "Would you join me, Cynthia? We could teach together, to OUR children, and grandchildren." She smiled shyly. "I'd love to." They stood and walked hand in hand down the canal bank, dreaming of a future together that would be the dawn of a new age for humans- an age of hope. 


End file.
